


Seeds of a Memory

by squidgie



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Community: smallfandombang, First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 10:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18444365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: All it took was a patch of ice to change Wayne and Daryl's life forever.





	Seeds of a Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SmallFandomBang 2019. Mucho thanks for the idea and for the beta, Brumeier!
> 
> Also, there is wonderful artwork available for this story here: <https://acme-graphics.dreamwidth.org/37342.html>

Wayne changed into his sleep clothes and crawled under the blankets, his muscles aching from the day’s chores and skin chilled from the cold wind as it pushed under the windowsill. Though he should be exhausted and ready for bed, he felt as if something was off.  And try as he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling.  His mind wandered to the rash of burglaries by meth-heads and other degen types the last few weeks.  Gotten so bad that even Dan’s Aunt Nancy’d had to run off a couple rabid-lookin’ losers that decided her front porch was a good spot to spend the night. Thinking of Aunt Nancy living alone meant that his mind went to Darry, tucked away in his trailer across the field, alone.  But Darry knew how to take care of himself.  ‘sides, if someone came up on his trailer in the middle of the night, they’d most likely have to deal with Sleepy Darry.  And dealing with Sleepy Darry could get you invited in for a cup of tea or maybe an ass full of buckshot.  Nah, Wayne figured Darry’d be fine.

Noises from Katy’s room down the hall reminded him that he wasn’t alone in the house.  And based on what he could hear, reminded him that Katy wasn’t alone, either.  His sister was a strong, sensible woman, even if she had taken up with the two hockey dinks again.  So that didn’t bother him.  As long as they treated her right was all that mattered.  Then again, either one of them went outta line, Katy’d be just fine to toss them both out on their asses.

“Oh bother,” he said as the second dink joined in making noises with the first.  Wayne’s fist against the wall shut the noises down for the most part. And what wasn’t shut down got smothered when Wayne buried his head under his pillow.

That was, until Wayne took a deep sniff of the pillow covering his face and caught the faintest whiff of something sweet.  Whatever it was reminded him of Angie’s perfume, that scent long-banished from the house.  It was soft and delicate, like Angie had been  _before_ the cheatin’.  As memories started to play in his head, it started the uneasy feeling in his stomach all over again.

He tossed and turned for half an hour, his mind racing about everything from what chores he needed to do the next day, to odd thoughts like when was the last time he went to the movies? His thoughts got so busy that he finally sat up, climbed out of and then remade the bed, and finally walked downstairs to get a couple shots of Gus N’ Bru.  Nothing like the soothing burn of a good Canadian whiskey to settle mind and stomach. He took a couple shots, mindful not to double-tap quite as loud as if he were sharin’ the bottle with his friends. And when he felt the burn settle into his stomach, and the mind chatter quieted a bit, he nodded his head, then went back up the stairs.  He looked out the window, over all the land that made up the farm, and was just about to climb back into bed when he saw it: a spark of orange that shone bright in the darkened sky, casting an orange pallor across the snow covered fields.

Fire.  Daryl’s trailer was on fire.

He looked again, then started to run even before he could process it.  “Katy!” he yelled as he ran down the stairs, “Call the VFD!”  He was in his boots, out the door, and halfway across the field before he knew it when the orange glow erupted, immediately growing bigger.  Once he was close enough, he heard a groan of metal grinding against metal and burning wood, his mind thinking the worst.  The memory of storing extra propane tanks under Daryl’s trailer the summer before made him stumble, then got him moving even faster.  “Darry!” he called out as he got closer, but saw no movement from the trailer.

“Darry!” he yelled as he reached the trailer.  It was then that he noticed that the fire had already engulfed the front door, the plastic outdoor covering sending up a thick blanket of acrid smoke.  He got too close, trying to see if had a chance to get Daryl out that way, since there was only one door in and out of the place. As he choked on the smoke, he covered his mouth with his sleep shirt and pounded on the side of the trailer. “Darry!  _Darry_!” he called out, but got no answer.

He knew Daryl slept in the back of the trailer.  That is, when he didn’t fall asleep in front of the television on the opposite side – the side that was currently engulfed in flames.  But he tried not to think of that.  Instead Wayne went to the back of the trailer and beat on the wall. “Darry!” he called, voice desperate.

“Can’t come out and play, Wayne,” Daryl said in a sleepy voice that leisurely drifted through the cracked-open window.  And wouldn’t it be just like Daryl to sleep with a window open when it was negative ten with the wind chill?  Wayne, clad in just his pajamas and work boots, shivered before trying to get Daryl’s attention again.

Wayne pounded his fist against the metal wall of the structure.  “Dammit, Darry!  Come on! Your house is on fire!”

“Wayne?” came sleepy Darry’s voice again.  Then, “Wait. Wayne?  Wayne!  My house is on fire!”

Wayne heard Daryl scuttle about inside before he thought to yell, “Front door’s on fire.  You gotta come out the back.”

“Wayne?  Wayne!  I don’t have another door.  Just that one!  Oh shit! Oh shit!”

Looking around but finding nothing, Wayne took off his sleep shirt and rolled it over his fist.  He turned his head, then punched at the long, thin panes of glass that made up the long, skinny back window of Daryl’s trailer. He kept punching until he got to the metal siding, then scraped as much glass out of the sill as he could. “Darry!”  He finally looked back in time for Daryl to poke his head out.

Until that point, he’d never seen any of his friends scared.  Lost, yes, like when Darry’s mother had offed herself.  Or the first time they’d come close to losing Aunt Nancy, which tore Squirrelly Dan up pretty bad.  But scared?  It was an expression that tore up his insides.  He never wanted to see again.

Daryl started to climb out of the window, but Wayne stopped him.  “There’s still enough glass to shred your insides,” he said. 

Daryl stopped moving, his eyes big.

“Darry!” Wayne yelled to bring him out of it.  “Get your blanket and put it over the side here,” which Daryl did.  But just as he started out, his eyes went big.  “Oh shit,” he said, then disappeared back into the trailer.

“Darry!” Wayne called. “We ain’t got time for this fuckery. Get out here!”

It was about five seconds later when Daryl showed back up in the window.  In each hand was a rat terrier.  “Oh shit,” Wayne said as he grabbed both, then leaned back for the two others that he knew were in there with Darry.  “C’mon!” he screamed when Darry hadn’t reappeared immediately.

There was a few pops, and Wayne knew that the fire had to be getting bigger.  He could feel the heat from the flames, even though they were a good fifteen feet away.  “Here!” Daryl said as he handed out the third dog.  “Bootsie?  C’mere, girl!” Daryl called even as the sound of the fire grew louder, and the undercarriage of the trailer began to groan under the collapsing weight. 

Wayne knew Daryl would mourn a lost dog.  But it was better to lose a dog than his best friend, so Wayne put his hands on the window and pulled himself to where he was halfway in.  He felt something sharp at his abdomen, but there wasn’t time to deal with it.  “Daryl! C’mon!” he yelled.  He reached out, determined to grab onto his friend and pull him out of the trailer by force, if necessary.

A nervous whimper like what only a rat terrier could make sounded from the covers, causing Wayne to look around.  He saw the final dog, an ancient little girl named Bootsie that used to be Daryl’s mom’s puppy, shivering in a tumble of blankets.  “Darry! Bootsie’s in here!” he yelled, then reached down and grabbed the dog and pulled her out with him.

Half a second later, Daryl was back in the bedroom, t-shirt pulled up over his mouth and nose. “Bootsie?” he said as he looked around.

Wayne leaned back in the window and grabbed Daryl, who struggled just a bit as Wayne attempted to pull him out the window.  “Where’s Bootsie?” he asked.  He braced his hands against the window frame, trying to find the dog.

Wayne chanced a glance back and saw all four dogs staring up at Daryl in the window.  “C’mon!” he yelled.

Daryl nodded once he’d seen all four dogs, then climbed out, “Ow!  Shit!  Fuck!” called out as he slithered through the window, Wayne knowing that he probably cut himself on the same glass that Wayne had.  He got Daryl to his feet, then handed him two dogs as he took the other two and pulled them against his chest as he started to back away from the blaze.

They made it a few dozen feet before they stopped and turned back to find most of the front of the trailer fully engulfed.  Katy, Jonesy, and Reilley were at their side a few seconds later, and they stood in silence as fire lit up the night sky.  The Letterkenny volunteer fire department showed up two minutes later and started fighting the flames.

“Here,” Wayne said as he handed over the two pups he was holding, each hockey dink taking one.  He put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, who stood there in shock.  After making sure his friend was okay, Wayne crossed the field and made his way to where the firemen worked.  He warned Jim Dickson, the head of the Letterkenny VFD, about the propane cylinders stored underneath the trailer, then backed away.  Jim got his crew to focus the water on that section.

It took an hour before the fire was completely out.  Wayne stood with Daryl after Katy took the dogs into the house, and brought both of them coats and thick blankets to burrow into, along with a pair of boots for Daryl. Jim walked up to them, ice already forming on his firefighter cap.  “’s finally out,” he said, “but don’t come near it tonight. We think we got all the hotspots, though there could still be some that might set off that propane.”

Wayne nodded.  Daryl stood there, glassy-eyed.

“You’re clear to come back and go through it tomorrow,” Jim said.  “Mind you it’s gonna be slick from all the water we just sprayed.”  He put his own hand on Daryl’s shoulder.  “Not a complete loss there, Daryl.  You’ll still have some stuff in the back of the house you can salvage.”

“Thanks, Jim,” Wayne said, and held out a hand to shake.

“Yeah,” Daryl said, then finally peeled his eyes away from the smoking remains of his home. “Thanks.”

With a touch to the brim of his hat, Jim nodded, then trudged back through the field to the idling firetruck.

Wayne knew Daryl was in shock, so he gently put his hands on each of Daryl’s shoulders and turned him toward the house.  “C’mon now, Darry,” he said quietly as he urged Daryl towards the warmth of the farmhouse.  “Time to go home.”

“But…  But my home,” he said, then tried to turn back to the smoldering remains.

“You’re home’s with me. Me ‘n Katy,” Wayne said.  He guided Daryl across the field, up the porch stairs, then pulled him into the house where they were greeted by three of Wayne’s four dogs.  The other was asleep, buried in a blanket on the couch.  “C’mon, now,” he said as he pulled Daryl into the kitchen where he fed him a couple shots of Gus N’ Bru.

Daryl double-tapped after each shot, the glass barely making a sound it was so soft.

“’kay,” Wayne said, then put the glass in the sink.  He guided Daryl to the stairs, then turned back with a quick, low whistle.  “C’mon, pups,” he said with a glance to the dogs. He pushed Daryl up the stairs and glanced at the guest bedroom, which he saw had been made up when he knew they’d stripped it a few days previous after Squirrelly Dan stayed the night.  Katy must have put it together before going back to bed.

Wayne pulled Daryl into the bathroom and tended to the cuts on his friend’s stomach.  They were small, but a couple of them looked deep, so Wayne took out a couple butterfly bandages and patched him up.  “I’ll be fine,” he said when Daryl offered to help him with his own injuries.  Wayne could only think of his friend, and put off taking care of himself.  Once he got Daryl settled into the guest room, with all four dogs surrounding him on the bed, Wayne went back to the bathroom to clean and stitch himself up, and finally stumbled into his room.  He was so exhausted from the night that he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.  But his dreams were tinged orange and red, the weight of loss heavy enough to wake him breathlessly many times through the night.

~*~*~

The sound of the skittering of nails against the hardwood floors woke Wayne, soon joined by soft voices talking in the kitchen.  Wayne got up and put on some warm clothes, but not warm enough for chorin’, at least not yet.  First, he had to check on his best pal to make sure he was okay, and then he and Squirrelly Dan would split Darry’s chores.  After putting on his boots, he walked down the stairs, where he found Daryl and Dan sitting at the table.  Daryl looked considerably less shocked than the night before, though based on Dan’s face, he figured Dan was deep in the middle of hearing about the ordeal.

“Darry!  How are ya now?” Wayne asked.  “Squirrelly Dan,” he added as he clasped Dan’s shoulder.

“Better now,” Daryl replied. “’n thank you.”

Wayne nodded with a curt smile on his face as he got himself a cup of coffee.  “A man needs help, you help him,” Wayne said as he took his seat at the head of the table.

“Yeah, but yous saved Darry’s lifes,” Dan said.  “And for that, we all owes you a debts of gratitudes.”

“Yeah,” Daryl said as he pushed his dirty curls out of his face.  Wayne felt bad for his friend, a smudge of ash still on Daryl’s forehead, both of them still smelling like smoke.  “Thanks, Wayne.”

After a sip of coffee, Wayne slow nodded and said, “You’re welcome, Darry.”  He sipped some more, then put his cup down.  “How’s about you take the day off?  Me ‘n Squirrelly Dan can take the chore’n.”

Daryl looked up at him with big eyes, then shook his head.  “No.  Give a man your word, you stand by it.  I’m up for chores.  Just ask that maybe we head over to the trailer first?  See what I can salvage?”

Wayne and Dan looked at Daryl.  “I thinks we can do thats,” Dan said.

“Yup,” Wayne said, finishing his coffee. 

With Katy awake but still “entertaining” upstairs, Wayne got up and put together a heavy, salty hash for breakfast, and gave Daryl a couple extra helpings of fatback before he went upstairs and got dressed, and they got started with the day.  Wayne drove them over to the remains of Daryl’s trailer, even though it was close enough to walk.  Thing was, by taking the truck, Wayne could keep Daryl somewhat preoccupied, as well as have something there to haul back whatever was salvageable from the charred hulk of metal that still smoked a bit in the morning sunrise.

They managed to get a few of Daryl’s important papers out of the back of the trailer, as well as a few things that Daryl considered dear to him, even though they’d been soaked by the spray.  The fire claimed Daryl’s keys and wallet that he’d left on the front counter, which were easily replaceable.  But it also burned up the only picture Daryl had of him and his mother. It’d been taped to the front of Daryl’s refrigerator in the front of the house.  And even though Daryl said, “’s just a picture,” as he ran his fingertips across the scorched appliance, the desolate look on his face told a completely different story.  Wayne made mental note to go through all the old pictures he’d stored up in the attic after his folks were killed.  Since he and Darry had been friends for decades, he knew there had to be more than a few pictures tucked away just collecting dust.

There were quite a few boxes that were stored in a hallway closet that had somehow come through the fire with only smoke damage.  It was stuff that Daryl could air out and salvage what he wanted, and maybe donate the rest.  They took the boxes out and lined the back of Wayne’s truck until it was jammed with Daryl’s belongings.  They had a few extra boxes, and not quite enough room, so Wayne tossed Darry his keys, moved one box in front of Dan, and then took the last remaining one.  It was a little heavy, what with being filled with Daryl’s mom’s cast iron pans.  But the cookware had been handed down a couple generations, and Daryl definitely didn’t want to part with it.

“Lift with your legs there, Big Shoots,” Wayne said as he squared his shoulders.  “Don’t need to be givin’ the VFD any more reason to come out here.”

The truck pulled out slowly, the wheels slipping a couple of times on the frozen puddles of water. Daryl stopped and leaned out the window. “Now you two be careful!” he called out.

Wayne chanced a glance at Dan, who took to walking like a duck on fresh ice.  “Now Dan, how many times I gotta tell ya that them work boots ain’t exactly the best for walking-” 

That’s all Wayne got out before his own work boots, what with the grippy soles that were safe to wear year round, slipped on an ice patch.  He felt one leg start to go out from under him and his eyes grew big as the box in his hand started to slip.  He felt one leg crumple under him, the other one aimed like it was tryin’ to walk away from his body.  Before he could do anything, he felt his back hit the compacted gravel walkway.  And as his breath was forced from his lungs, he watched one pan tip back out of the box. It bounced off his forehead just as the back of his head struck a patch of frozen ice.

He was pretty sure he heard both Dan and Daryl cussing up a storm, and saw Daryl leaning over him just as an overwhelming feeling of darkness settled in his brain.  “Dar-” was all he was able to say before he passed out.

~*~*~

“Shit fuck!”

Daryl was out of the truck before Wayne settled into his fall.  He was at Wayne’s shoulder half a beat later and pulled the skillet from where it came to rest across Wayne’s throat.  “Wayne?  Wayne!”

Wayne’s eyes went glassy, an almost silent, “Dar-” escaping his lips before Wayne let out a heavy breath and went completely limp. 

“Wayne?” Daryl called as he slapped Wayne, trying to get him to respond.  But Wayne wouldn’t come to.  And it was then that he saw the small puddle of blood that pooled on the ice. “Oh god,” he said as he pulled Wayne up and into a sitting position.

“Now waits,” Dan said as he put a hand on Wayne’s limp body and eased him back down, keeping Daryl from picking him up.  “He coulda hurts his back.  Let’s get the VFD out here so they can-”

It was then that he watched Dan glance at the blood on his fingers.

Dan picked Wayne up and started him to the truck, where he settled him not so delicately onto the bench. “You gets him to the hospital, and I’ll go get Miss Katys,” he said.  Daryl jumped back into the truck and helped get Wayne strapped in.  Dan slammed the door and slapped the side of the truck.  “We’ll meets you there,” he said, and then took off across the field. 

There was still a layer of ice on the laneway, but it was thankfully covered in snow.  Daryl pushed the truck as fast as he could until he got to the paved roadway, thankful that there was a fresh coating of salt and gravel, and sped for the 45 minute drive to the only emergency room in the area. Without thinking, he pulled the truck into the entrance and jumped out.

“Help!” he called toward the open doors as he unbuckled Wayne.  But when there was no help, he managed to get Wayne over his shoulder.  “Help!” he said as he ran in, legs unsteady with Wayne delicately balanced as best he could.

Emergency workers seemed to descend on him from all angles, but Daryl was happiest to see the gurney wheeled toward him. An orderly that was easily twice the size of two Maple Leaf defensive players combined plucked Wayne from Daryl’s shoulder like he weighed next to nothing.  He got Wayne situated on the gurney and they quickly disappeared behind a curtain, soon flung wide open by half a dozen people in scrubs.  Daryl went right after them, even as a nurse followed him asking, “What happened?”

He allowed the nurse to pull him back for a second, but kept his eyes on Wayne the whole time.  After a bit of stuttering, he finally got it out, telling her all about the fall, the blood.  “Come with me and let’s get him registered,” she said.  “That way it’ll give the team a chance to get him sorted out.”

“No,” Daryl said, never once looking away.  “I need to be with him.”

As if on cue, Wayne suddenly sat up, even as the orderly tried to use his body weight to keep Wayne down.  Wayne just pushed him back like he was nothing and had a spit over the side of the gurney.  He looked around, eyes squinted because of all the bright lights until he saw Daryl standing at the doorway.  “Darry,” he said, voice much weaker than it should be.  It was enough to tug at Daryl’s heart.

“I’m here, Wayne,” he said as he tried to push his way back into the room.

“Sir?  Sir!” the nurse urged as she pulled at him.  “We gotta know who he is.”  With another tug, she said, “Gotta know who _you_ are, too.”

“Me?  Why?” Daryl asked.

Wayne spit again, then said, “Darry,” before he leaned back into the gurney.

“Darry,” Daryl said, then shook his head.  “Daryl. And this’s Wayne.”  He rolled off with Wayne’s vitals, the nurse writing everything down.

“And you?” she said as she tried to pull Daryl away from the doorway.  “Are you a relative?  A next of kin?”

For some reason, only one thing popped into his head, and Daryl said, “Sweetie.  I mean, I’m his husband.”  He looked around, like he might get in trouble for telling a lie, but he didn’t care.  “Husband,” he repeated, knowing that if the hospital found out they weren’t related, he wouldn’t be able to be with Wayne.  They’d learned that the hard way the previous season when Daryl’d fallen out of the combine and cracked a couple ribs.  At that point the nurse kept writing and stopped trying to pull him away.

“Darry…  H’band,” Wayne said, his voice weak.  His head spun minutely and his eyes rolled back. And just like before, he was out again.

He watched as frenetic urgency subsided and Wayne was examined.  A few minutes later, Daryl managed to breathe a little easier as a doctor declared Wayne to have suffered just a concussion, at least from what he could tell.  He watched as the doctor barked a few orders at those around him, asking for tests to be completed.  He acknowledged Daryl and told him what was going on, then added “We need to sew up the cut on the back of his head, so if you could step out for a second?”  The doctor pulled a curtain shut, which blocked Daryl’s view, but did nothing to silence the scuttle of workers behind it.

Even with the doctor’s reassurance, it still hurt to breathe.  Daryl wanted nothing more than to be behind that curtain, stopped only by a security officer who showed up a few seconds later.  “That your truck blocking the ambulance bay?” she barked.

It took a second for Daryl to come out of it.  He put a hand in his pocket, barely remembering the drive in, and pulled out the keys. “Oh shit.  Yeah,” he said.  He tried to hand them over to the surly looking officer.

The security guard crossed her arms.  “Move it!” she ordered, pointing to the exit.  So Daryl took one last look at the fluttering curtain, then walked out to the porte cochère where he started the truck and drove it to the visitors lot.  He started heading back inside when he heard a familiar voice calling his name, and looked up in time to find Katy and Dan quickly walking toward him. 

“How’s he doing, Darry?” Katy asked. 

“Doc says he’s got a concussion, most likely,” Daryl said, hugging Katy. 

After reporting in, Katy took to her Facebook to let people know Wayne was okay.  There was already a rumor on the Ag Hall Facebook page about Wayne getting his clocked cleaned, but Katy took care of it.  Darry and Dan talked quietly nearby until the doctor walked out.

“Excuse me, Darry?” the doctor asked as he walked up to them.

“That’s me,” Daryl said. “How is he, Doc?”

The doctor smiled, which caused an audible sigh from each of them.  “He’s conscious.  Doing better now.  He’s awake and resting comfortably, though we’re going to want him to stay for a few hours while we get him through a couple more diagnostic tests.  But he’s asking for his husband, so if you could-”

“ _Husband_ ,” Katy said.

Daryl dared to turn, and found a completely blank expression on Dan’s face, a curious one on Katy’s. He didn’t utter a word, but gave Katy a big-eyed expression.  She nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Well, I’m his sister. Can I come, too?”

The white haired doctor looked them over a second, then adjusted his glasses.  “I suppose it’s for the best,” he said, then glanced at each of them before he turned back to the treatment area.  “I’ll walk you all back.”

After a glance from both him and Katy, Dan joined them.  As they walked, Katy grabbed Daryl’s arm.  Her blood red nails gently dug into Daryl’s arm, and she just said, “Husband?” again in a voice only loud enough for him and Dan.

“Sorry, Katy-Kat,” he said. “They were gonna make me leave if I wasn’t related.  And we’re all practically kin.  ‘s first thing that popped into my head.”

“’kay, Big Shoots,” she said.  “Just be careful,” she added, then squeezed his arm.  “Grade ten wasn’t all that long ago.”

It’d been a while since then.  Back when he and Katy-Kat were in grade ten, watching from afar when Wayne started dating Angie.  He and Wayne had been pert much attached at the hip up to that point.  But when Angie came into the picture, Daryl gave them the distance they deserved.  But it didn’t stop Katy from getting him schnockered on butter-ripple schnapps one night when they were alone at the house.  The liquor made it easier to talk.  Made it easier for Daryl to confess that he was in love with Wayne. Katy’d told him he should have done something about it, but Daryl wouldn’t.  Wouldn’t be responsible for taking away another man’s happiness, even if it meant he couldn’t have his own.  But Katy’s slurred words of, “You know he sometimes looks at you the same way he looks at Angie,” rumbled around his head, and still haunted him on occasion.

“Katy!  Dan!  Darry!” Wayne called out as the trio entered the small, curtained off room.  “How are ya now?”

“Good ‘n you?” Katy responded.

“Oh, not ‘s bad,” Wayne said even as the doctor approached him with a flashlight.  He did a couple of neurological tests, then went back to Wayne’s chart.  As soon as he did, Wayne put a hand out and gestured for Daryl.  “Darry?  C’m’ere, will ya?”

Daryl walked up to the head of the gurney and couldn’t help but give a little yelp when Wayne pulled him close.  “It’s okay Darry.  I know you was worried about me, but as you can see from the Doc, he says I’m okay.” Wayne knocked on the side of the gurney to get the doctor’s attention.  “Say, Doc.  How’s about you tell my sweetie here that I’m okay.”

“Just a couple more tests,” the doctor said.

Wayne looped his hand through the guardrail and found Daryl’s hand.  Daryl froze, but Wayne spoke first.  “Sorry, you two,” he said to Katy and Dan, “but I can’t have my sweetie lookin’ so scared while we sit through this.  You’ll understand.”

“Completely understands,” Dan said.  But when Daryl dared to catch Dan’s eyes, he could tell there were lots of unanswered questions he’d be spillin’ to later on.

The doctor went through a few neurological questions, like “Who’s the current Prime Minister?” “What year is it?” and the like.  When he got to, “Who is the President of the United States?” Wayne’s face turned to more than a hint of a scowl.  “That fat bastard tit,” he muttered.

“That’ll do,” the doctor said, not at all hiding the grin on his face.  After a few more glances at Wayne’s chart, he asked, “How long have you and Darry been married, then?”

Wayne, who had answered each question quickly and succinctly, suddenly looked crestfallen. He looked at the doctor, then down to his boot-covered feet, and then to Darry.  “I…  I don’t know,” he said.  “Darry, I’m sorry.  I can’t remember.”

“It’s okay, Big Shoots,” Daryl replied.  He did a quick calculation in his head, figuring out when Wayne and Angie’d broken up, and what would be the most appropriate time to have started dating after that, and then built in time for a courtship.  “Six months, Doc,” he said. 

“Six months?” Wayne asked as a big smile grew across his face.  “Well hells bells, no wonder I can’t rightly keep my hands off’n ya,” he said, then pulled Daryl down into a quick, chaste kiss.  “Sorry, Katy-Kat.  Sorry, Dan.  But you two oughta be used to us by now, I’m assumin’?”

“Can’t says that I ams,” Dan responded, then shot another glance at Daryl.

The doctor was a little concerned about the memory loss, and then started asking additional questions. When it was clear that Wayne’s memory about current events were okay, he let Daryl, Katy, and Dan ask a few questions about the farm.  Wayne got everything correct, but his forehead crunched up when he asked questions about him and Daryl, saying he couldn’t remember hardly a thing.

Before Daryl started to panic, Katy stepped in and started filling in a few of the details.  He owed Katy a lot for helping him.  But before Wayne could push too much, the doctor said, “You’re going to want to take it easy the next couple of days.  There’s going to be a time of adjustment, and I’m sure once you’re back in your own home, all your missing memories will come flooding back to you.”

“Does that mean I get to g’ home?” Wayne asked as he pulled Daryl closer to him.

The doctor signed a couple slips on the chart, then handed Daryl a couple of prescriptions. “These’re scheduled the first couple of days, then only if he needs them,” he said, then explained the medications were for pain and muscle soreness.

“I’ll take ‘em,” Katy said. “Dan and I are gonna head back now, so we can get his meds along the way.”

“But Katy,” Daryl said, studying her expression for the briefest of seconds.  “Shouldn’t I take these to the pharmacy to be filled with Wayne?”

“It’s okay,” Katy said. She glanced back at Wayne, then said, “This’ll give me a chance to – you know – get the house ready for you two lovebirds to come home?”

Even though Aunt Nancy once said Daryl would be destined for confusion, he knew exactly what Katy meant, and he was thankful for her clear-headedness.  “Thanks, Katy-Kat.”

She pulled him down into a hug.  But the reason was so that she could whisper into his ear.  “Give us about an hour, okay?”

“’kay,” he said as he let her go.

Daryl’s mind reeled at what was going on.  He knew that he was deceiving his friend.  But in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t too bad.  Besides, maybe Wayne would wake up the next day and forget about the whole thing.

Katy and Dan took off, and Daryl knew he had to give them time to get the house ready, however that was going to happen.  He sat with the doctor and Wayne, trying to pay attention to the doctor’s discharge instructions, but Wayne’s hand in his felt overwhelmingly warm and made him nervous. He wrangled a couple dressing changes out of the discharge nurse, so he could check and cover the stiches in Wayne’s scalp.  It was forty-five minutes before an orderly came in and started to put the guardrails down.

“If you want to go bring your car around to the discharge area, I’ll bring him out,” the orderly said as he reached up to help Wayne off the gurney.

“If’n you think I’m gonna be wheeled outta here like some sort of-”

A single hand on Wayne’s shoulder stopped the train of thought.

“Sorry, Darry,” Wayne said, then gave him a wink.  “Go pull the truck around.  I’ll be there shortly.”

Daryl nodded, then walked out to get the truck.  He found the discharge area and pulled up to it, and couldn’t help but smile when he found Wayne standing up next to the orderly, the wheelchair nowhere in sight. He smirked as he pulled the keys out, then walked around and got Wayne’s door open.

“Now Darry,” Wayne started, “I know I can’t remember when I married ya, but I know I wouldn’t have agreed to let ya open all the doors for me.  Dammit, Little Shoots, I’m not a girl.”

“Well I ain’t no girl neither, Big Shoots,” Daryl responded.  “But you’re gonna let me take care of you like the nice doctor said, or we’re just gonna march you right back in there.”

The massive intern remained quiet, but smiled at Daryl giving it right back to Wayne.  Clearly they’d had words, and he wasn’t too happy, but that wasn’t going to stop Daryl.  Wayne looked like if he stuck his lip out any farther he could use it as shade, but kept his mouth shut after Daryl’s threat. 

“There,” he said once Wayne was in the cab of the truck and strapped in.  He shut the door, then nodded at the orderly.  “Thanks, Super Chief,” he said, then ran back around and got settled into the cold leather seat.

“Hey, Darry,” Wayne said, which caused Daryl to turn his attention away from the dash and to Wayne. Before he could ask what was up, Wayne leaned over and kissed him.  It was just a peck on the lips, really nothing in terms of passion.  But still it was enough to make Daryl’s legs go tingly, with butterflies on his insides.

“What?” he finally asked once the moment broke and Wayne sat back up again.

“You know,” Wayne said as he took out a dart and stuck it in his mouth, “I can’t get over the kissin’. It’s like I’ve not allowed myself to ever enjoy it before.  I’m sorry I don’t remember everythin’ right now,” he said, then took a deep drag. Blowing the smoke out the now rolled-down window, he reached over with his free hand and put it on Daryl’s thigh. “But I’m not sorry for the ways it makes me feel.  Kinda like I get two first kisses from you, Dar.  One just now, and the one that I’ll wake up tomorrow and hopefully be able to remember.”

They sat there, Daryl sure he was going to burst into flames with as hot as his cheeks were.  He fumbled with the keys for a minute, and then pulled out from the covered area and onto the street.  He pointed the truck in the direction of home, and tried not to get distracted by the feeling of Wayne’s fingers as they played across the coarse material of his coveralls.

~*~*~

Even though Daryl took it slow, it felt like no time at all had passed since they’d left the hospital when he turned the truck onto the laneway.  There was no car, but he could see Katy through the shadows cast by the lights against the curtains, so at least she and Dan had gotten there first. Dan must have headed on home.  The day’s chores could wait until tomorrow; ain’t no problem ever come from a cow that missed being milked a single day. Eggs would stay, too, what with the cooler air.  Hens would keep them warm by sitting on them, like natural.

“C’mon, Big Shoots,” Daryl said as he opened Wayne’s door, only to find Wayne fast asleep.  He leaned over and undid Wayne’s buckle, then squeezed Wayne’s leg.  “C’mon, now,” he said with a couple more squeezes.

Wayne’s eyes finally opened, and the hint of a mischievous smile crossed his face.  “Your hand goes any higher and we’re gonna have to stay out here in the truck.”

And just like that, Daryl flushed again.

“You’re super cute when you blush, Darry,” Wayne said.  Daryl blushed even deeper and Wayne reached out and pushed Daryl’s curls from his eyes. He let his thumb drag over Daryl’s unshaven jaw, and Daryl couldn’t help but leaning into it a little.

It took a second for Daryl to shake himself out of it.  He held out a hand for Wayne to take, which he did begrudgingly, even as Daryl thought he should have never started this whole process.  But again he was thrown for a loop when Wayne leaned in and kissed him.

“Never gettin’ used to that,” Wayne said with a grin, then started walking to the house.  He stopped after a few steps and reached out a hand. “Well c’mon, then,” he said and waited for Daryl to catch up.  And when Daryl was at his side, Wayne enveloped Daryl’s softer hand into his calloused one, and they walked to the house.

Daryl just hoped that his palms weren’t sweating, or Wayne would figure it out for sure.

“Hey, big brother,” Katy said as Wayne and Daryl walked into the house.  Daryl could almost feel her eyes as they took in the sight of the two of them walking in hand-in-hand.  “How are ya now?”

“Good, ‘n you?” Wayne replied.

She smiled.  “Oh, not ‘s bad,” she said, then crossed to the refrigerator.  She poured out a glass of milk and put it on the table.  “Sit,” she said.

Both Wayne and Daryl followed orders.

Kate left the room, then came back a few seconds later with a couple prescription bottles.  She put two tablets in front of Wayne from one container, and a third tablet from the other.  “Take your pills,” she said.

“With milk?” Wayne blustered.  “I’ll take ‘em with a Puppers, please ‘n thanks.”

Katy canted her hips and leaned against the counter.  “You’ll take them with milk, like the directions say,” Katy said. 

Wayne immediately ducked his head.  “Yes, Katy,” Wayne said, then did as he was told.

“Good,” Katy said once the pills were dispatched.  “Now I need to run out for a couple of things,” she said.  “You two take it easy until I get back.  There’s hockey on, so you boys just go relax.  I’ll be back in a few minutes to take care of supper.”  She grabbed her coat, then caught Daryl’s eye and motioned him to the other room.

“Be right back, darlin’,” Daryl said.  He wanted to kiss Wayne but knew that he shouldn’t push it.  So instead, he patted Wayne on the shoulder, then followed Katy into the living room.  “What’s up, Katy-Kat?”

He helped Katy finish putting on her jacket, then handed her the keys to the truck and her gloves that were sitting nearby.  “The doctor say anything?” she asked, then leaned in closer and added,  “Did _he_ say anything?”  They both glanced to the kitchen behind them, and she added, “He hasn’t figured it out yet?”

Daryl shook his head and couldn’t help the frown that came across his face.  “It’s like he’s stuck,” he said.  “He must’a heard me saying I was his husband when I brought him in, and that somehow stuck in his head.”

After a few seconds of nodding, Katy finally said, “Okay, then.  I’ll be back in about an hour.”  She gestured for the staircase.  “Moved your stuff in from the guest room to Wayne’s,” she said, “at least what little there was.  We need to get the boxes out of the truck and into the house.”

A whole new set of problems drifted to the front of Daryl’s train of thought.  “How’m I gonna explain _that_?” he asked.  “Shit,” he said as he gestured to the truck outside, “pert near everything I have left is in those boxes.  And wouldn’t it look queer me unpackin’ those boxes right now?”

The smirk on Katy’s face told him he should be more careful with his choice of words.  “You know what I mean,” he added.

“Deal with it if it comes up,” Katy said, then slipped outside. 

Daryl stood there and watched Katy for a moment until he heard footsteps in the kitchen.  “Darry, how’s a beer?”

“I’ll have a beer,” he said, then walked to the kitchen.  “Wait,” he said as he double-timed it the rest of the way. “Wayne, you can’t have a beer with your meds.”

Wayne just smiled at him as he held onto the refrigerator door.  “Weren’t havin’ one,” he said as he held a Puppers out for Darry.  “But I might have a bit of yours if we get in some kissin’.”  He smiled, then leaned in for a kiss.  But this wasn’t a public kiss.  This was a kiss that was saved for behind closed doors that had been double locked and gave Daryl enough material in his spank bank to make batches ‘til the end of time.

They finally broke, but not because of the kiss.  It was because of the massive yawn that Wayne let out.  “Shouldn’t be this tired,” he said through another yawn.  “It’s hours ‘til the sun goes down.  Plenty of time to get some work done.”

“You’re not doing any chore’n today, Wayne,” Daryl said.  “Today’s about  you getting better. Squirrelly Dan ‘n me’ll get the chores done tomorrow.  Doctor’s orders.”  When he glanced up, Wayne wasn’t looking at him.  Instead he was looking at a picture that was held on the front of the refrigerator with a magnet.  Daryl watched as Wayne took down the picture and ran his fingertips over the print.  “Wayne?” he asked, voice quiet.

Wayne didn’t respond for a long while.  But when he did, his face split into the biggest smile.  “I remember this,” he said, then threw an arm over Daryl’s shoulder. “This is the wedding, isn’t it?”

Daryl nodded.  Only he wasn’t lying this time.  It was _a_ wedding.  It just didn’t happen to be _their_ wedding.  Not that Wayne would be able to figure that out; at least not yet.  “Yup,” was all Daryl managed to say.  He hoped that he wasn’t blushing again.

“Yeah,” he said.  “It was warm.  In May?  Just before we put in the crop.”  Daryl watched as Wayne ran his fingers reverently over the image of the two of them in suits, sunshine spilling over them both.  A faraway smile landed on Wayne’s face.  After a second, he screwed up his face a bit.  “For some reason I keep remembering Joint Boy, too.”

It _was_ a wedding.  Just that it’d been Joint Boy’s wedding.  He’d finally found a gal and settled down, not that any of them thought he would.  The wedding had been on a beautifully warm May afternoon, with Wayne and Daryl there, along with Squirrelly Dan, Katy, and a few others, celebrating JB and his new bride. Katy’d taken the picture, and it’d become his instant favorite when he’d seen it developed.  He just didn’t realize Katy put it up on the refrigerator.

“Yeah.  Joint Boy got married this Summer, too,” Daryl said. “Spring weddings.”

Wayne yawned again, shaking like a dog what just got a bath.

“Okay,” Daryl said as he took the picture and put it back on the refrigerator.  “Doc says you’re gonna be extra tired the next few days, so you need your rest.”  He turned Wayne around by the shoulders and walked him to the stairs.  “Let’s go lay down upstairs.”

But Wayne stopped him before they got out of the room.  He reached up and cupped Daryl’s cheek, then leaned in for another kiss.  And even though it was an innocent kiss, it was still enough to make Daryl weak in the knees. 

He followed Wayne upstairs and into the bedroom, where he looked about and found everything he owned, down to the book that he was reading last time they were in the canoe, laid strategically around the bedroom.  Katy’d set him up with the side of the bed nearest the door, for which he was somehow grateful for though he didn’t know why.  As soon as he took his eyes off his belongings, he looked over and saw Wayne changing out of his clothes.  His first reaction was to look away.  But then he realized that at least right now he was allowed to look.

The guilt built up within him rather quickly.

“Come lay down with me,” Wayne said.  He reached out and grabbed Daryl’s hand in his own, then pulled him to the bed. “C’mon,” he urged.

“Okay, but I’m not tired,” Daryl said.  He slipped off his boots and coveralls, but that was it.  He stayed in his t-shirt and jeans, then crawled into bed, careful to stay on top of the covers where Wayne was already tucked underneath the blankets and sheet.

Wayne pushed the covers back and reached out for Daryl’s hand.  He took Daryl’s hand and put it flat on his chest, and then started to push it down.   Down over his nipple, across his flat stomach, and then finally coming to rest at his hip. Wayne tried to move Daryl’s hand further, but Daryl resisted.  “Listen, Darlin’,” he said, then was stopped by another kiss.  There would have been another, except Daryl moved his hand on Wayne’s chest and leaned up.  “Not that I don’t want to,” he said, “because believe me, _I want to_.”

At least what he was telling Wayne was the truth.  Even if yesterdays’ Wayne wouldn’t have wanted to hear it.

“But listen, darlin’. I know you’re tired right now ‘cause of all you’ve been through, so you need some rest.”

Wayne thought about it for a moment, said, “’kay,” before he pulled Daryl back down into another kiss. When he finally let Daryl go, he couldn’t help but smile up at him.

“What?” Daryl asked. He needed a distraction so he reached over Wayne and grabbed the book on the bedside stand.  When he settled, in, he realized Wayne still hadn’t talked. “What’s up, Super Chief?”

Before Wayne said anything, he reached up and pushed the hair out of Daryl’s eyes, then touched Daryl’s chin.  “You know, every time I kiss you, it feels like something that I’ve done a thousand times in my head.  But each time still feels like the very first.”

Daryl wasn’t sure what to do with that, so he reached for Wayne’s hand and took it into his.  He laid back on his pillows, and let Wayne scooch over closer to him and lay his head on his shoulder.  Daryl tried to focus on the book as Wayne got comfortable, letting the fingers of his free hand play with the short hair on the crown of Wayne’s head.  He kept gently stroking until Wayne’s breath evened out, and he gave in to sleep.

But as Wayne dozed, Daryl was the furthest to sleep than he’d ever been.  He knew he should be freaking out, even as he enjoyed the feeling of Wayne’s head on his shoulder.  Of Wayne’s hair at the tip of his fingers.  Daryl had it bad, and tried to read to take his mind off things.  But all he could manage was continuing to think of how monumentally screwed he was going to be when this was all said and done.

~*~*~

Wayne was happy to have the house to himself and Darry.  But Darry was right, once they’d gotten upstairs, there was no way he was going to be able to go heels to Jesus with his husband.  He was just too tired.

Husband.

It was the kind of thing that he never thought he’d experience in his lifetime.  Not that he didn’t love Darry, but there was something that felt forbidden about their relationship.  Like maybe he and Darry’d had to sneak around when they first got together?

And when was that? Wayne tried to think about it, but all he could think about was breaking up with Angie.  Angie, who, at one time before he found out she was cheating on him, slept in this very bed with him, though the situations were reversed; her head was usually on his shoulder.  But him laying there with Daryl, it just felt right.

“Dar?” he asked as he lifted up his head.  Daryl was awake, eyes big staring down at him.

“Wayne?  How you feelin’, bud?”

Wayne put his hand to his head, glad that the sun was presently going down so the room was a bit darker.  “Like I stuck my head in the parts cleaner,” he mumbled.  “What time is it?”

Daryl leaned up and helped Wayne sit up in the bed as well.  “Probably about time for you to take another pain pill,” he said.  “Let’s get you downstairs.”

They went downstairs, each footfall on the stairs causing a tiny jolt of pain through Wayne’s head. He couldn’t help but squeeze his eyes shut, and opened them only as much as he needed to get from the bottom of the stairs to the table.  He took the glass of milk from Darry and swallowed a pill down as Katy asked, “How’re you feeling there, Big Shoots?”

Wayne opened his eyes enough to see both Katy and Daryl staring back at him.

“Like Clarabelle done kicked me in the head,” Wayne said. 

“Hey, now,” Daryl started, “don’t be badmouthing Clarabelle.  She’s a good milker.”

And while it was true that Clarabelle, a cow that Daryl’d raised from calf, was indeed a good milk producer, it was also true that she was generally a pain in the ass.  At least when it came to Wayne.  She had no issues when Daryl grabbed her teat and started tuggin’, but as soon as Wayne stepped in, he was more likely to get a hoof to the hand at the least.  He was pretty sure Clarabelle had been learning to aim her urine stream just to soak him.

“Yeah, whatever,” Wayne said, though he spared a smile for Daryl.  He finally looked over at Katy, who was fussing with something on the stove. “What’cha doing there, Katy?”

“Working on yer dinner,” Katy responded.  “Thought I’d make something we haven’t had in a while,” she said, then gestured to the ceramic tureen that she was throwing vegetables into.  “Chicken pot pie, boys,” she said.  She stopped and turned to Wayne.  “That sound okay, big brother?”

Wayne’s stomach grumbled. But before he could respond, Daryl said, “Hey, if he don’t eat it, I will, Katy-Kat.  I love your chicken pot pie.”

For some reason that brought another memory back to the front of Wayne’s brain.  He thought about it for a minute, the taste of gravy and chicken on his tongue as fresh as if he’d just taken a big spoonful of it. “It was at the wedding,” he said quietly, then opened his eyes.  “Our wedding,” he said, then smiled and reached out and put a hand on Daryl’s knee. “Katy, you made chicken pot pie, didn’t you?”

Katy studied him for a minute, then smiled.  “Hey, you’re remembering!” she said as she blew a hair out of her face.  “Good for you,” she said.

Wayne looked back at the refrigerator and studied the picture of him and Daryl.  He smiled, but something didn’t quite feel right.  Even through the fuzz of pain that radiated from his temple, he knew what he and Daryl had was solid; they’d been best friends for decades, lovers for at least a year, and married for months.  But still, there was something in Daryl’s eyes that made him look more like a scared beast than a happily married man. “Dar?” he asked.

“That pain pill kickin’ in, Wayne?” Daryl asked.

Wayne leaned back, and indeed, felt the beginnings of relief start to course through his veins.  He wanted to kick away the unwelcome feeling that was trying to settle in his chest.  Whatever was bothering his husband had been enough to make Daryl look uncomfortable as Wayne pushed through the throb of pain that was finally lessening. 

“This’ll likely take me ‘nother half hour, and then we’ve got an hour until it’s baked if you boys want to go watch some TV,” Katy offered before she turned her focus on their dinner.

“Sounds good to me,” Wayne said.  He stood, watching Daryl take a sip of his beer.  Wayne took a chance and leaned forward, kissing Daryl with the barest hint of tongue.  It let him get a taste of the beer he was missing.  “C’mon, Darry,” Wayne said then took Daryl’s hand into his own.  “Let’s go watch some hockey.”

He turned to the doorway, but stopped.  He looked around for a moment, then asked, “Say, Darry?  Where’re all the pictures?”

“Pictures of what, Big Shoots?” Daryl asked, even as a blush started on his face.

“The wedding.  Me ‘n you,” he added.  “Why aren’t there more pictures out?”  Wayne led them into the living room where there were pictures of Wayne’s parents, of him and Katy.  Of the four of them taken soon after Wayne’s parents funeral.  But the only wedding picture seemed to be the one on the refrigerator.

“Oh,” Daryl said, then glanced back at Katy.  “Guess we put them up.”

“’kay,” Wayne said. He sat down on the couch and pulled Daryl down with him.  “Maybe we should go through them sometime?  Maybe help get those memories back?”

“You just focus on getting better, Big Shoots,” Daryl added as he slipped his hand from Wayne’s, Wayne instantly missing the connection.  Daryl put his arm across the back of the couch, so Wayne scooted closer and leaned into it, his head resting on Daryl’s arm.  He reveled in the feeling of closeness, like it was still something that he didn’t allow himself.

They watched a hockey game until Katy called them into dinner, then all three sat around the table. Wayne insisted on serving, and the three made small talk as they ate.  Halfway through the meal, Katy got up and got a Puppers from the refrigerator, handing it to Wayne.  “Might as well have a little bit of one,” she said.  “Just not too much.  Darry, you get to finish it off.”

With their bellies full, Wayne and Katy went back to the living room where they watched television while Daryl stayed in the kitchen, cleaning up.  Wayne missed having Daryl at his side, but as the buzzer sounded on the third period of the hockey game, Daryl slipped back onto the sofa at Wayne’s side.

“Miss me?” Daryl asked.

Wayne turned to Daryl and snaked a hand into his hair.  He pulled Daryl close and kissed him, all heat and tongue, and when they finally broke, he rested his forehead against Daryl’s.  As he dropped a hand to Daryl’s lap, he added, “Like you couldn’t imagine.”

Daryl smiled, though there was that blush again.  It was enough to make Wayne just a little uncomfortable.  But Katy was there, and airing his business in front of others, even if it was his little sister, just wasn’t his way.  So he let Daryl get settled, then recreated their encounter from earlier where he leaned into Daryl’s shoulder and got comfortable.  He even reached over and grabbed an afghan and spread it over them, then subtly put his hand under the afghan and let it rest on Daryl’s thigh.  He felt tension there, but didn’t ask anything.  Instead, he just relaxed into the moment and watched television until his eyes grew heavy.

~*~*~

Daryl enjoyed having Wayne this close to him, practically falling asleep on top of him as they watched the end of the hockey game and then turned it over to a movie.  Wayne’s warm, calloused fingers on his thigh made him feel jumpy.  But at the same time, it was everything Daryl had ever wanted. 

But how long could he keep this up?

Mid-way through the movie, Wayne fell asleep, snoring lightly against Daryl’s side.  Daryl ran his fingers through the short-cropped hair of Wayne’s temple until Katy cleared her throat. 

He felt guilty even before he caught Katy’s eyes.  She stood up and stretched, then leaned close and put a hand on Daryl’s free shoulder. “Don’t get hurt, Darry.”

“I won’t,” Daryl said, even though he knew the words were a lie.  He already knew he was going to come out of this hurt, however it ended. But it felt so right, that the lie he’d started with at the emergency room gave him the comfort to deal with it. 

Katy gave him a look that said she could see behind his words, then squeezed Daryl’s shoulder. “You should get him up to bed. I’ll get his pills,” she said, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Daryl sat there, letting the warmth of Wayne’s body against his give him what little comfort it could. “C’mon now, Big Shoots,” he said as he rustled Wayne back to consciousness.  “Let’s get you to bed.”  He got Wayne into a standing position, but waited for Katy to come back with another glass of milk and the pills. 

“Down the hatch, big brother,” she said. She and Daryl watched as Wayne took his pills and  handed back the glass.  “Okay, I’m going to bed,” Katy walked over and locked the front door as Daryl turned off the television.  “Goodnight, boys,” she said before disappearing upstairs.

“’night, Katy,” Wayne and Daryl said, practically in unison.  Daryl guided Wayne toward the stairs, then walked around and turned off the lights, plunging them into darkness.  When he walked back up to Wayne, he felt Wayne reaching out for him. “Wayne?”

Before he could realize what was going on, Wayne held Daryl’s chin at his fingertips, and kissed Daryl like his life depended on it.  Daryl reciprocated at first, but when he felt Wayne pushing his hardness against his thigh, finally pulled back.  “Wayne? Wayne…”  When Wayne finally looked at him, eyes mostly hidden in the darkness, Daryl tried to speak, but his mouth was dry as a brittle field of wheat.  He cleared his throat, then whispered, “Not that I don’t want to, darlin’.  But we best get you up to bed before those pain pills kick in.”

Wayne sighed, but nodded his head.  “’kay,” he said, then plundered one more kiss before he took Daryl’s hand into his. They walked up the stairs and locked themselves behind the bedroom door, where they undressed silently and climbed into bed.  Daryl automatically grabbed his book and sat up against the headboard, and Wayne scooted close to him, trying to recreate the intimacy they’d held during naptime. But even as he sat there, breath even, Daryl could tell there was something going on, because Wayne was so stiff at his side.  “What’s up, Big Shoots?” he finally asked.

“Okay, well? Okay.  Okay, so Darry?” Wayne asked, his voice quiet.  There was enough emotion in his voice to nearly break Daryl if he let it.  But instead, Daryl tried not to think about it.  He held Wayne’s gaze as it seemed to steady him.  “Are we okay?”  Wayne looked away for a second, then dropped a hand to Daryl’s blanket-covered leg. “I mean, this feels right.  You ‘n me.  Feels like something I was never allowed to let myself have.  But you.  You seem a little…”  He didn’t finish the sentence, though the unsaid words hung heavy in the air.  “Are we okay?” he asked again.

Daryl sighed.  He picked up Wayne’s hand and dropped a couple kisses against knuckles that had knocked out more men over the years than Daryl could count.  “You’re my best friend,” Daryl said, knowing his words weren’t a lie.  “Why wouldn’t we be okay?”

That seemed to satisfy Wayne.  He nodded, and leaned in and kissed Daryl again, this time soft, but urgent.  And though it seemed to settle Wayne, an overwhelming feeling of despair started to grow within Daryl.  As Wayne settled in for the night, Daryl turned off the lights and snuggled against the man that he wanted, but couldn’t have except in a lie.

Sleep didn’t come for Daryl until nearly dawn.

~*~*~

Wayne woke up with a headache that felt like it would split his skull in two.  It was like a molten ball of iron rolling around his head that weighed him down, accompanied by the weight of someone’s arm wrapped over his midsection, and a heat at his back.  He took stock for a moment as he willed the pain in his head to go away, and everything came flooding back to him.  The fire at Daryl’s trailer.  Moving Daryl into the farmhouse.  Hitting his head.  Going to the emergency room.

Daryl saying he was married to Wayne.

He was up, his mouth open and shouting even before he could get a coherent thought to form in his brain. He’d woken up with Daryl in his bed, wrapped around him like a man starving for attention and Wayne was the only person for thousands of miles.  He yelled a few times as Daryl got up, almost feeling sorry for the dark bags under Daryl’s eyes.  But he didn’t care. 

“What the fuck, Darry?” he yelled, hurling it more like an accusation than a question. “Married?  Saying you’re fuckin’ _married_ to me?  What the actual fuck?”

Daryl was on his feet, dressed only in a thin t-shirt and boxers, rubbing his eyes as he started to yell back.  “Hey, I did what I had to-”

“Bullshit, Darry,” Wayne spat, then continued to unload on his supposed friend. 

It was no time before Katy was up and standing in the doorway.  Wayne felt his face go hot with rage and continued to yell until Katy put herself between him and Daryl.

“Cut the shit, Wayne,” Katy said as she shielded Daryl from him with her body.  “Daryl did what he had to-”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” he yelled back at her.  “He didn’t have to do that.  To say… _that_.”  Wayne looked around, wanting to grab something and throw it. But even as mad as he was, surrounded by not just his things, but Daryl’s as well, he couldn’t pick something up and destroy it just because he felt like it.  So instead, he turned and punched a hole in the wall, his knuckles glancing off the stud as his fist passed through the drywall like it was nothing but air. 

“God dammit,” Katy said, “you’re bleeding again you fuckin’ idiot.”

Wayne stood there for a second, then grabbed his pants and stormed down the stairs.  He put them on, stepped into his boots, and then snatched his keys off the sideboard so violently that the ancient bowl they stored things in fell to the ground and shattered at his feet.  But that didn’t stop him.  He stormed out of the house and made it to his truck in no time. He shot up the laneway and away from the house as fast as he could.

~*~*~

Daryl stood there, completely spent.  He’d known it would all come crashing down around him, but didn’t think that it would happen so fast.  Or that he would feel so hollow, gutted by Wayne’s words.

Katy turned around and stared at him, a hard look on her face.  He knew he deserved to hear as much from her as he’d gotten from Wayne, and he braced himself for it, closing his eyes before the onslaught came.

But when a few seconds passed, followed by a heavy sigh from Katy, Daryl opened his eyes.  He found Katy standing before him, a melancholy look on her face.  “Oh, Daryl,” she said as she pulled him close.  “I’m sorry.”

Words he didn’t deserve. 

She hugged him tight, Daryl letting himself feel the comfort of her embrace.  “It’s gonna be okay,” she finally said as her hand rubbed up and down his back.  She pulled back and wiped away a tear Daryl didn’t know he’d shed, then pushed one of his curls back.  “He’ll be back,” she whispered, “and it’s gonna be okay.  It’s gotta be.”

“He hates me, Katy,” Daryl finally said.  “Got good reason to,” he added, then wiped his drippy nose. 

Katy gave him a hint of a smile.  “It’ll be okay, Darry.  You’ll see.”

Daryl gave her a hopeful smile, even as his soul seemed to be enveloped by darkness.

~*~*~

Wayne drove around for a few hours, not caring that his knuckles had bled, dripping blood over his jeans, the leather material of the car seat, and the floorboards.  He was angry.  Angry at being taken advantage of.  Angry at being made a fool.

Without realizing it, he pulled into the parking spot at Tanis’ house.  He sat there stewing in the cab of his truck until Tanis opened the door and stepped outside, a blanket over her shoulders.  They stared at each other for a few minutes until Tanis raised a hand, gesturing for Wayne to come inside before slipping back into the house.

It took a few minutes for Wayne to calm down enough to climb out of the cab.  He lit up a smoke and took a few drags, then tossed the dart out toward a fresh pile of snow that had fallen the night before.  He walked inside, only then realizing that he was still bleeding.

Tanis studied him for what felt like an age.  She’d always had the uncanny ability to see right through him.  “What’s up with you, Boo?” Tanis finally asked.

Wayne said nothing. Instead he quickly strode forward and cornered Tanis against the kitchen counter, where he leaned in and kissed her. It felt like what he was _supposed_ to do, even if it felt like he was cheating on a man that he was never married to.  He pulled back before Tanis could kiss him back, somehow mourning a relationship he never really had.  “Sorry,” he muttered, then turned to go.

“Nu-uh,” Tanis replied. “You’re not goin’ anywhere.”  She grabbed his shoulder, then studied him for a moment.  Her hands reached down until she had his bleeding knuckles under her gaze. “Siddown,” she commanded, then pointed to the table. 

Wayne did as she said, then watched as she gathered her first aid supplies.  She was at his side a few seconds later, pulling his hand up to study the cuts.  She made a ‘tsk’ sound as she saw all the damage he’d done to himself, then gently rubbed the knuckles with a damp cloth to clean up the mess of fresh and dried blood. 

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked as she put the cloth down.  She dabbed at the cuts with a fresh cloth, then held pressure to it to get it to stop bleeding. 

Wayne didn’t answer. Instead, he just grunted as he pulled back his hand and studied the cuts himself.  “Got any butterflies?” he asked, knowing that she did.  He’d gotten into his fair share of scraps when they were sleeping together and she’d patched him up more than once.

Tanis sighed, and went to the bathroom.  When she sat back down, she said, “I should make you go to the hospital and get proper stitched up.  But you already been yesterday, weren’t ya?”

He gave her a hard look, but didn’t respond.

“Yeah, figured,” she said. “My auntie’s a registration clerk. Heard the ruckus yesterday when some hick brought his husband in ‘cause he hit his head.  Didn’t take too much to put it together.”

“Fuckin’ Darry,” Wayne said as he jerked his hand back.

But Tanis wasn’t having any of it.  She yanked his hand back and put it on the table where she dabbed it with a clean towel, then got out some salve and the butterflies.  “What’re you so pissed about?” she asked.  “Friend brought you in, got you taken care of.  You so fuckin’ insecure that someone pretending you’re gay is gonna make your manhood fall off or somethin’?”

He tried to pull his hand back again, but Tanis held firm, her fingernails digging into his wrist until he stopped pulling.  She went back to cleaning the cuts on his knuckles, then spread a light coating of ointment across them, and finally started applying the butterflies.  When she was done, she held his hand until Wayne looked her in the eye.

“Thanks,” he muttered, then took his hand back.

“Seriously,” she said. “You gotta ask yourself – are you mad because he did it?  Or are you mad at how it made you feel?”

Wayne rubbed his wrist gently in his other hand, then blew on the back of his knuckles so that the adhesive of the bandages would dry.  “What’s the difference?”

“It’s a big difference, Boo,” she said. 

They stared at each other for a few minutes, and Tanis refused to back down.  When Wayne finally broke the gaze, he asked, “Different how?”

Tanis studied him for a few beats, then asked, “Remember back when we were just starting to see each other, and you were takin’ off your boots?  I gave you a rash ‘a shit about it.”

Wayne remembered distinctly, but didn’t want to go over it again.  Instead, he just nodded his head to answer her question.

“That day I told you I was bi, and said maybe we could bring in another girl.  And I asked if you were bi, maybe you could bring in another guy, too.”

Wayne instinctively closed his eyes until they were barely open, scowling at Tanis.  “I don’t share,” he said through clenched teeth.

Tanis pushed her hair over her shoulders and sat back.  “Now here’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question, Boo.  Does that mean you didn’t want to share me with someone else?” She leaned in closer, her eyes boring into him like she could see right to his soul. “Or you didn’t want to share him with me?”

It was a simple question, but it hit Wayne in the chest all the same.  So after a few minutes, he sat up and curtly nodded at Tanis.  “Thanks for the stichin’ up,” he said, then stood.

“Any time, Boo,” she said as Wayne walked to the door.

After standing there for a moment, Wayne finally turned the knob and started to open it.  But before he did, he turned back to Tanis and nodded at her.  “Thank you,” he said, then turned to leave.

“You know, Wayne,” Tanis said.  Wayne stopped and turned back to her again.  She stared at him, eyes hard, until she finally blew out a sigh.  “You know,” she said, “you’re allowed to take what you want out of life, too.”

Wayne waited as the full weight of her words washed over him.  And when they did, he shut the door and crossed the room, putting his hand on her shoulder.  He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.  “Thanks, Tanis,” he said when he pulled back, then turned and walked out and got in his truck.  He sat there for a few minutes, then started it up and got back on the road, a thousand different thoughts each begging for his attention.

~*~*~

It was midway through morning chores when Wayne’s truck pulled onto the laneway and stopped just short of the house, though Wayne didn’t make a move to get out.  Daryl nodded at Dan, then walked over and got into the cab of the truck, and started to speak even before Wayne could get a word in. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to say, but while he had Wayne’s attention, he was going to do his best to get the words right.

“Now look, Wayne,” he started, satisfied when Wayne turned to him, a harsh look on his face that almost took his breath.  But he pushed on.  “Now I know that I lied, but you gotta know I didn’t do it to disrespect you.  I did it because you were hurt and I was scared. I mean I never saw you that injured before, and ain’t never been so scared in my whole life.  I know that I let my personal feelings get in the way, and I apologize for that.  But I’m glad that I got you to the hospital right quick, and that they got you taken care of.  Now I ain’t gonna apologize for that, but I’ll apologize for letting my personal, deepest thoughts and feelings get in the way.  I promise it won’t happen again.  So please, you’re important to me and I need to know that you’re okay. That _we’re_ okay.  I promise it won’t happen again, but I’m glad you’re okay.”  He finally took a breath and chanced a look at Wayne.

The words hung there in the air, so thick like there wasn’t enough room in the truck for both of them plus everything Daryl’s said.

Wayne finally nodded, and Daryl let out a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Now Darry,” Wayne said as he looked over Daryl, his gaze as strong as it took Daryl in, “I’m gonna ask you a question.  And I want you to think long and hard before you answer.”

Wayne’s words weren’t something Daryl considered in all the possibilities that he’d played over in his mind.  He figured there’d be fists involved, and maybe a few hurtful words.  But Wayne being calm, voice even, as he asked Daryl a question wasn’t something he’d considered.

“What is it, Big Shooter?”

Wayne nodded, then finally said, “Okay.”  He sat there for a seconds, then added, “What would you say to going out with me?” When Daryl looked at him as if he’d grown a second _and_ third head, Wayne added, “Like out on a date.  Proper like.”

Daryl’s smile was all the response he could give.

~*~*~

(Two months later)

Daryl woke up alone in the big bed, but reached over to feel the warmth the missing body that was supposed to be next to him.  He stretched, then got out of bed and put on his jeans and t-shirt, then pulled his coveralls over them in an effort to stave off the chills of Winter.  He put on a long pair of thermal socks, thick enough to ward off the ice and snow that grabbed at the windows and tried to get into the house, and walked downstairs.  He stopped at the refrigerator to grab a thing of yogurt, then closed it and glanced at the pictures held to the front with magnets. There was the picture of him and Wayne at JB’s wedding, the feeling of that beautiful spring day warming his soul. And next to it was an old, faded picture of Daryl and his mother, taken by either Katy or Wayne, he couldn’t remember who, back at one of Daryl’s super-soft birthdays when he was still in elementary school.  The image of his mother’s smile gave him comfort in the chilly morning air, as much as Wayne did when he leaned back into Wayne’s arms a moment later.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Daryl said as he leaned back into the embrace.  He let Wayne’s strong, warm arms engulf him, like he’d held Wayne last night.

Wayne kissed his neck, then pulled back as Katy came down the stairs.  She gave them both a smile, then went to the refrigerator.  “You two go on ahead outside and start your chores,” she said.  “I’ll call you in for breakfast in a bit.”

Daryl leaned up out of the embrace, but turned to kiss his sweetie.  After stealing a few kisses, Wayne playfully whacked his backside, and said, “Well, pitter patter,” and walked them outside into a day with barely a hint of sunrise painted across the few wispy clouds in the sky.

But even with dark all around them, Daryl felt how full and bright his life was now that he and Wayne were together.  And he wasn’t about to let the darkness envelope them.  So he followed Wayne out into the rising sun, happy that his life, like each new day, held such promise and wonder.


End file.
